


to analyze your eyes

by alienjack



Category: Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Killing Game (Dangan Ronpa), Alternate Universe - No Ultimate Talents (Dangan Ronpa), Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, Hinata Hajime and Kamukura Izuru Are Twins, Kamukura Izuru Has Feelings, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, except makoto still has extreme luck lmao, it's mostly cute tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:48:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28257948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alienjack/pseuds/alienjack
Summary: He’d never considered the possibility that his soulmate bond would be one-sided."I was running late," Makoto explains, scratching his cheek. "And I got lost, so I asked Kamukura for directions..." ...and then the world had exploded into color, the first spark of which was those red, red eyes.or,“Four-leaf clovers generally exist in a one-to-five-thousand ratio with three-leaf clovers,” Izuru says, taking it by the stem with careful fingers. “But you find them regularly.”“If I stop to look,” Makoto says modestly.or,Izuru has been able to see color since he was two years old due to (questionable) experimental genetics. When he meets Makoto, though, he knows they're soulmates anyway.or,Makoto meets his soulmate and suddenly the world is no longer grayscale, but Izuru has already been able to see color. He feels like he's stealing Izuru somehow, but then again, Izuru keeps choosing him.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime & Kamukura Izuru, Kamukura Izuru & Nanami Chiaki, Kamukura Izuru/Naegi Makoto, background hinanami - Relationship
Comments: 19
Kudos: 149





	to analyze your eyes

**Author's Note:**

> title from ['leo' by diet cig (yt link).](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6MzWT2etiPY)
> 
> help, i've fallen for another rarepair and i can't get up! shout-out to theo for prompting this fic and letting me scream abt kamuegi for the past couple of weeks. i hope you like this end product!

Izuru has always been able to see color, contrary to every single other person on Earth. People without soulmates, or who never meet theirs, perpetually see in black and white, while soulmates who meet can at last see color in the world around them. When he and Hajime were children, before they knew the reality behind Izuru's technicolor sight, Izuru said, "Well, maybe it's because you're my platonic soulmate and we've always known each other," but Hajime had just called his twin 'weird' and then asked what 'platonic' meant.

Now, though, they both know better, aware of their freak science experiment origins, aware that Izuru might just not get a soulmate at all. He’s mostly okay with that, though.

ꕤ

Izuru stands by the school gate with Chiaki, waiting for Hajime to get out of class. He likes his brother's soulmate; she's okay with silence, and she's actually a challenge to beat when they game together. He knows their friendship makes Hajime happy, too, because whenever he gets wrecked by them in multiplayer games, he complains about it but smiles anyway. Besides, Chiaki is Izuru's only friend (he would count Hajime, but Hajime says he doesn't count because they're brothers, so they're forced to be friends).

After most of the student crowd has disappeared, Hajime finally comes out the front doors and meets them at the gate.

"Sorry for making you wait," he says. "They're making me help with the new student orientation and I had to spend last period setting up..."

"I wonder what they'll be like," Chiaki muses, putting away her GameGirl and taking Hajime's hand, and the trio head off to his car.

ꕤ

"You're running late," Izuru says, standing by their front door. He specifies this because he himself is not running late; Hajime was asked to get to campus early to help with orientation, and Izuru is going because he needs the ride. Regardless of Hajime's current tardiness, Izuru will still be early to his own classes.

"I know," Hajime snaps, aggressively snatching his keys from the hook by the door. "Let's go."

Izuru accidentally shuts his hair in the car door, and the tug from it hurts more than he expected; then, when he reaches for his GameGirl out of his bag, it isn't there. With deep annoyance, he realizes that it's still sitting on his nightstand. It appears they're both having a poor morning. The car ride is silent.

When they reach campus, Izuru trails Hajime to the gym. A couple kids are already there, and it looks like Hajime is the last "volunteer" to arrive. He looks back at Izuru and shrugs. "You don't have to stay."

So Izuru leaves, wandering back toward the front of the building. He settles on one of the benches and resigns himself to staring out the wide hallway windows until either Chiaki arrives to campus or his classes start.

ꕤꕤꕤ

Makoto skids around the gate, panting. He is so, so late to orientation, but it really isn’t his fault! Just bad luck that he missed his bus, and by then Sayaka was already on campus and couldn't give him a ride. The building is massive, and as soon as he steps inside, he realizes that he has no idea where he's going. After a moment of hesitation, he picks a direction and prays that he's right. Maybe luck will be on his side this time! Maybe there will be a map somewhere… Why does a single building need to be so large and oddly-shaped?!

The hall he picks is lined with trophy cases on one side and wide bay windows on the other. He wants to slow down and take it all in—the campus is gorgeous, and the trophies all look so different, probably to compensate for lack of color—but he's already running so late... But he's also completely lost. Makoto groans in frustration over his awful luck as the hallway turns a corner.

About halfway down, he sees a person sitting on one of the window benches, and his heart leaps—someone who can help, or is just as lost as he is. Either way would be nice, so Makoto decides to approach. However, by the time he reaches the bench, his awkwardness catches up to him and he blurts in a rush, "Um, hi, I'm a new student and I'm looking for—"

The person looks up, and his eyes are...

Red.

"—orientation," Makoto finishes, suddenly breathless. "Um. The gym, for orientation." Maybe luck was on his side today after all.

"Take the next hall. It's the last door on the left. Although, if my estimate of the time is correct, orientation will be over in ten minutes."

Makoto barely registers the words, but the voice is low, smooth, monotonous. His soulmate has dark brown hair, nearly black, that cascades down around his face and pools on the bench around him. He's wearing a suit. His eyes are mesmerizing.

"...can I help you?" his soulmate asks.

"Sorry," Makoto says absently. "Your eyes are beautiful."

His soulmate blinks at him, and Makoto realizes what he said.

"Sorry, was that too forward?" He laughs and scratches his cheek. "I haven't even introduced myself. I'm Makoto Naegi. It's nice to meet you!"

His soulmate cocks his head to the side; his waterfall of hair slides across his face, obscuring one of his eyes. "Izuru Kamukura."

_Izuru Kamukura. Izuru Kamukura._

ꕤꕤꕤ

Makoto Naegi is still standing there, looking at him. There's a smile on his face. Izuru is worried that he must have missed something.

"Why are you still standing here?" Izuru asks.

Makoto Naegi looks confused, then flustered. "I mean, you said I only have ten minutes left of orientation, so what's the point in going now?" he says, laughing nervously.

Izuru isn't sure why Makoto Naegi is nervous. Maybe because he told Izuru he has beautiful eyes, and Izuru didn’t really respond to it—but no one has ever said that to him before. It was nice. Maybe Makoto Naegi thinks that Izuru is uncomfortable because of the compliment. He's not looking at Izuru now, glancing around the hallway, taking it in.

"Would you... Like to sit?" Izuru offers, unsure. He certainly wasn’t offended by… by being told his eyes are beautiful. It’s a good first.

"Oh! Yeah, yes, that would be," Makoto Naegi clears his throat. "Sure."

Nervous—the boy is nervous. Izuru was right. So he sweeps his hair closer to his body so that Makoto Naegi doesn't sit on it, and suddenly he has a companion on his bench. Izuru takes a moment to study him as he stares out the window: his hair is considered "long" for standard male cuts, messy and choppy like Hajime's and a medium brown; his eyes, an almost-hazel green, are wide as they take in the view outside the window (it's odd—he would've already seen the grounds at some point if he's a new student here for orientation. His wide-eyed wonder makes no sense); he's got a medium-light complexion and a hint of freckles on just the highest points of his round cheekbones, where the sun probably hits his face most; his jacket is forest green.

Makoto Naegi catches Izuru staring, and Izuru almost feels... Something. Embarrassment? But it's the younger boy who blushes when their gazes meet.

"So, you're a student too?" he asks Izuru. "Wait, stupid question. Of course you are. Uh, what year are you?"

"Second," Izuru answers shortly. It's technically true, even though he's in classes far beyond that level. Besides, he had liked looking at Makoto Naegi without having to worry about talking. The morning sunlight adds a pleasing aesthetic to his soft features.

Makoto Naegi scratches his cheek—an anxious tic? Did he feel obligated to sit because Izuru had offered? But he also hadn't left after Izuru gave him directions—and hums. "I'm a first year. Obviously... Ugh. Hm."

"You're uncomfortable."

"No! No," he protests. "I'm just... Nervous, I guess. I want you to like me, you know?"

Interesting. It seems that Izuru had assessed the situation incorrectly. He runs back over the entirety of their interactions—giving directions, then being complimented on his eyes, then sitting together, while this strange underclassman looked around as if he'd never—

_Oh._

ꕤꕤꕤ

Makoto wouldn't say this is going poorly, but even for his optimism he knows the situation isn't... great. Kamukura seems like the silent type—his conversational skills seem to be a bit... Stilted, maybe? Besides, maybe it's just... an odd expression of shock...? Regardless, Makoto is determined to not give up.

"I want you to like me, you know?"

Kamukura opens his mouth to reply, but then a soft, high voice calls out, "Hey hey, Izuru."

"Chiaki," Kamukura greets smoothly.

"Who's this?" she asks as Makoto turns to look at her. Her hair is a cloudy pink, pinned away from her face with a pixel spaceship hair clip, and her eyes a brighter version of the shade.

"Makoto Naegi," Kamukura answers. "He's a first year."

"Aren't you supposed to be in orientation?"

The rather lackluster introduction throws Makoto.

Maybe this is actually going much, much worse than he thought. He’d never considered the possibility that his soulmate bond would be one-sided.

"I was running late," Makoto explains, scratching his cheek. "And I got lost, so I asked Kamukura for directions..." ...and then the world had exploded into color, the first spark of which was those red, red eyes.

"Do you have a GameGirl?" Chiaki asks, almost abruptly.

"Uh... No?"

"Hm." She looks more disappointed at that than she had about his missing orientation. "Well, that's okay, I guess. Scoot over."

She moves to sit between the two boys; with a still slowly sinking feeling, Makoto obeys. She pulls out her GameGirl and powers it on, immediately immersing herself in the bright colors of the pixel game. Makoto can't help but lean over her shoulder, taking in all the new shades.

"If you had a GameGirl, I'd let you borrow this to play," Chiaki says absently as another enemy dies with a hot pink blood splatter. "I've already beat it three times, but then 'Zu borrowed it and obliterated my high score, so that's my goal right now."

"Ah, I see..."

Makoto glances over at Kamukura only to see Kamukura already looking back at him, and his heart flutters.

"Although part of what makes the game difficult is its color scheme," she continues. "I only barely passed the last boss battle the first time I played it... It's a lot harder in black and white. But it's easier now that I can see all of it."

So she's got her soulmate, Makoto thinks. And—his stomach sinks further—if the game depends on color-sight, then... Kamukura must...

It doesn't make sense, but Makoto has never really had the best luck anyway. Although, maybe he's at least getting two friends on his first day. It's bittersweet, but Makoto smiles anyway.

"Do a lot of games do that?"

Chiaki's eyes light up.

ꕤꕤꕤ

Izuru hates sitting through class. Learning is good; class, not so much. His teachers can't seem to keep up with him, leaving him bored and restless most days. Today is even worse—after Hajime had finished helping with orientation, Makoto Naegi had been swept away with his fellow classmates, a blue-haired girl grabbing him by his elbow and taking him away. So Izuru spends his day replaying the morning’s interaction, dwelling on soft-faced Makoto Naegi and being called 'beautiful' as if it were a natural reaction.

After classes finish, he stands at the gate with Chiaki. Students flood out from the doors and push past them, but Chiaki is too absorbed in her game to care, and Izuru is busy scanning the crowd. As soon as he spots that tuft of brown hair, he leaves Chiaki's side.

Makoto Naegi stops by the buses, talking to the blue-haired girl. She's gesturing toward the parking lot; assumedly, she has a car available to her. He's trying to wave her off.

Just as Izuru gets within reasonable shouting distance, Makoto Naegi makes eye contact with him and somehow _blooms._ The girl turns to see, and when she looks at Izuru she smirks, although it doesn't seem unkind.

"See you tomorrow, Makoto!" she calls as she heads off.

Makoto Naegi meets him halfway.

"Kamukura, hi," he says.

"Hello, Makoto Naegi."

"Ah, you don't have to call me by my full name—"

"I have a GameGirl, if you want to play. Unfortunately, I did leave it at home today, so." Izuru pauses. "My brother can drive you home."

"Okay," Makoto grins.

ꕤ

Hajime finally escapes the crowd and finds Chiaki and Izuru at the school gate, accompanied by a short brunet.

"Who's this?" he asks.

"Makoto Naegi," Izuru says.

The name rings a bell. "You're the kid that skipped orientation!"

"It was an accident! I—"

"It's okay, Naegi-kun, I skipped orientation too," Chiaki whispers. "We just have to give you a hard time."

"He thinks my eyes are beautiful," Izuru says, and Naegi goes a brilliant shade of pink.

"Gross," Hajime says, throwing his arm around Chiaki's shoulders. "You never should have said that, Naegi. Izzy is a gremlin."

When they get to Hajime's car, Chiaki takes shotgun; it doesn't matter to Izuru. It's better, actually, because he can put his hand on the center of the backseat and Makoto Naegi will hold his hand.

ꕤꕤ

ꕤꕤꕤ

ꕤꕤ

Izuru continues to seek out Makoto after that. The first couple of times, he can tell that Makoto is surprised by his presence, but after a week or so, it appears that Makoto has come to expect Izuru’s attention, which is fine with Izuru—he wants to give Makoto his attention. It starts with continuing to find Makoto after school, giving him rides home so that he doesn’t have to take the bus, finding him in the morning before classes and sitting together. Makoto starts spending more time inside their house, spending entire afternoons with Izuru (and Hajime and Chiaki).

Today, Makoto had suggested meandering the bike path near the Hinatas’ house. As they walk, Makoto keeps trying to keep his hair out of his eyes by blowing on the strands, but they inevitably return to tickling his nose and covering his eyes. Izuru has a hair clip in his pocket, a Galaga ship identical to Chiaki’s own, which she had given him on he and Hajime’s last birthday. He rarely uses it, having no issue with his own long hair hanging in his face, but keeps it on him anyway; he likes running his fingers over the squared edges and pressing the points into the pads of his fingers. He thinks about offering it to Makoto, but just as he squeezes his fingers around it in his pocket, Makoto stops walking and grins.

“Hey, look,” he says, crouching down.

Izuru cocks his head; his long cascade of hair nearly touches the sidewalk.

Makoto stands up and holds out his hand. In his palm is a four-leaf clover. He smiles a bit awkwardly. “I always seem to find at least one… do you want it?”

Izuru doesn’t understand why he would want a now-dying fodder plant, but he inexplicably does.

“Four-leaf clovers generally exist in a one-to-five-thousand ratio with three-leaf clovers,” Izuru says, taking it by the stem with careful fingers. “But you find them regularly.”

“If I stop to look,” Makoto says modestly; Izuru doesn’t point out that he hadn’t stopped to look for this one, but instead tucks it into the front pocket of his shirt.

ꕤ

Izuru has never been inside the Naegi house before, which might perhaps be a bit odd, having now known each other for three and a half weeks.

Usually their time spent together is in the form of Makoto coming back to the Hinata household after school and playing games with Chiaki, Hajime, and himself. Sometimes, though, Izuru tires of sharing and will take Makoto back to his room; he works on his various projects while Makoto does his own homework, which seems as if it should be boring, but Izuru feels perfectly content with it, and Makoto has never voiced any kind of complaint, either. They go on walks together more frequently now, too; nearly every time, Makoto finds at least one four-leaf clover. (They spend an afternoon one day at the park to intentionally hunt for some, and Izuru finds four. Makoto finds seven. He gives all but one of them to Izuru.)

It’s a fairly modest house: the ground floor has the kitchen, living room, laundry area. All three bedrooms are upstairs: Makoto’s, his little sister’s, and their parents’ master bedroom. Makoto lets Izuru wander around for a bit, rapidly memorizing the floor plan. Most home furnishings are designed with grayscale sight in mind (greens appear more white, for example, while reds come across darker), but based on some complimenting colors in the furnishing scheme, Izuru gathers that Makoto’s parents are soulmates. When they go upstairs, Makoto points out which rooms belong to who and tugs Izuru into his own room before Izuru can absently try to look around the other two bedrooms.

“Sorry, it’s kind of a mess,” Makoto mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Hajime’s is worse,” Izuru tries to reassure him. Overall, Makoto’s room isn’t all that messy. His desk is cluttered and his bed unmade, but his floor is mostly clear, save for a jacket that had been carelessly tossed to the side, and a few notebooks and pens scattered around near the foot of his bed, where he must have done homework instead of at his covered desk. The walls are a creamy blue, and a modest television is mounted to the wall across from the bed. Over his desk is a corkboard, which is primarily covered in enamel pins. Izuru approaches that first, curious.

“You don’t wear any of these,” he notes. This collection is a new detail for him to file away.

Makoto moves beside him, tugging off his school blazer and draping it over the back of the desk chair. “Yeah, I guess I have so many, I’d feel bad about only using a few of them and leaving the rest here.”

_How sentimental._

There are some pins with names of locations on them, likely vacation souvenirs; a few are small Pokemon, and a few logos from different anime. There’s a pin with the Aquarius symbol on it, and a sunflower pin, and a horseshoe. There’s a stylized silver quarter-moon, and next to it a matching silver star. A kitsune, a black cat, and a cutesy sushi roll with cartoon eyes are clustered together.

Izuru touches the Aquarius one. “When is your birthday?”

“February fifth.”

So it’s already passed. Izuru memorizes the date immediately. Then he moves his fingers to brush over the moon and star pair; the shape of their edges is pleasant. The points on the star remind him of the points on the squared edges of his hair clip when he presses it against his fingers.

“When’s yours?”

“January first.”

Makoto smiles at that, his green eyes turning into crescent moons, like the pin had been turned sideways. “New Year’s, huh?”

Izuru hums an affirmative.

ꕤ

Izuru perches on the side of Makoto’s sink, watching with rapt attention as Makoto grabs a chunk of his bangs and starts snipping.

He asks again, “You’re certain you don’t want me to do it?”

“Yeah,” Makoto dismisses him, tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth as he looks nearly cross-eyed. “I do this all the time.”

To his credit, he does hold the scissors vertically, and he seems to have some semblance of understanding technique. Still, it would be easier for him to just let Izuru do it, logically speaking. His hands are unfailingly (unnervingly, according to some people) steady, and he has an eye for precision.

Makoto snips away, humming to himself as short pieces of hair fall into his sink. When he finishes, he ruffles it to loosen any clinging cut pieces, and then smiles at Izuru.

“Not bad, right?”

Izuru doesn’t resist the impulse to push his hand through Makoto’s hair; it’s soft, and the choppy layers are a pleasant texture against the skin of his palm. When he pulls his hand away, Makoto is staring at him in a way he doesn’t entirely comprehend. It’s affectionate, at least. Maybe dazed. Izuru slides off the sink and echoes, “Not bad.”

They spend the rest of the evening watching a show that Izuru does not care about, but it keeps Makoto’s attention, which means Izuru can spend time looking at Makoto. After just one episode, though, Makoto turns and catches Izuru staring.

“Um. Can I play with your hair?” Makoto blurts.

Izuru gathers his hair over one shoulder to avoid lying on any of it, then flops over Makoto’s lap. “That sounds nice.”

Makoto laughs, and it sounds almost breathless. He wiggles around a bit until Izuru is settled more against his chest, and then his blunt nails are scratching against Izuru’s scalp, and Izuru suddenly believes in heaven.

He wakes up to the TV auto-pausing the show. Makoto’s hand is still in his hair, and Makoto himself has also fallen asleep. Izuru pulls his phone from his pocket and checks the time; he has four texts from Hajime, each asking if or when Izuru would need a ride home.

_‘Fell asleep,’_ he replies, thirty minutes after the most recent text. _‘Get me in 30 minutes.’_

After a moment, he remembers to add, _‘Please.’_

Hajime responds with a thumbs-up, so Izuru settles back into Makoto’s embrace. Maybe he could wake up his soulmate so that Makoto will play with his hair again; it had been nice. Instead, though, he spends the next twenty minutes breathing in the scent of the Naegis’ fabric softener and dryer sheets, lulled by Makoto’s deep, even breathing.

He’ll wake Makoto up when Hajime is on his way. He doesn’t want to break this peace.

ꕤꕤꕤ

“Aw, you finally decided on what pins to wear!” Sayaka grins when Makoto slides into her car the next morning. He’s grateful that she’s willing to drive him—er, well, her driver drives him, he supposes.

Makoto smiles back, touching the moon and star he’d pinned to the lapel of his school blazer. “Yeah. Just seemed like the right ones, you know?”

ꕤ

“Soo, I heard you found your soulmate,” Asahina grins cospiratorally.

Makoto jumps a little, not expecting her to slide into the seat in front of him. “Ah, yeah! Um, when I missed orientation.”

“It’s already been that long and you haven’t talked to us about them?!”

“OMG, Hina, you can _not_ just ask Naegi about his soulmate!” Junko whisper-shouts from across the room. “Didn’t you _hear?_ It’s, like, _one-sided.”_

Makoto swallows hard and clenches his fists on his desk, suddenly with his whole class’s eyes on him. He has no idea where she got that information from, but… surely she’s just meaning well by getting Aoi to back off. “I mean, well. I guess. But we still hang out anyway, so it’s not all bad! I, uh, I appreciate you looking out for me, though, Junko.”

Behind him Kirigiri mutters, “You know she was trying to embarrass you.”

“I like giving people the benefit of the doubt,” Makoto smiles, but the expression plainly shows his underlying unease—at least, it’s plain to Kyoko.

All she replies with is a “hm,” and then Taka is yelling at everyone to settle down before class begins. Makoto finds that he can’t seem to focus on anything at all.

ꕤ

Izuru and Chiaki are waiting by the gate again that afternoon; Hajime has kindly and consistently given Makoto rides home, be that to the Hinata household or Makoto’s own home. Izuru always holds his hand the whole ride—it’s endearing, but today Makoto can’t help but think he’s taking something away from someone else. Today, he has Hajime take him straight to his own house, and Izuru stares at him for almost the entire car ride. Makoto isn’t entirely sure what Izuru is looking for, but Makoto squeezes his hand before getting out of the car and hopes that’s good enough.

He gets a text shortly after that says, _‘You put pins on your blazer.’_

Makoto smiles, even as his chest feels heavy. It’s as if Junko had spoken his fear into existence, despite all the time he has spent with Izuru for the past month-ish. Still, he texts back, _‘yeah, idk they just seemed fitting <3’ _

He second-guesses the heart as soon as he presses ‘send,’ until he gets a _ <3 _ back in response; from it, he knows Izuru realizes that Makoto had noticed the attention he’d paid to these two particular pins yesterday.

Makoto tries to use that _‘ <3’ _ to keep his mood up. For the most part, it works.

ꕤꕤꕤ

Lying in Izuru's bed a few days later, Makoto asks, "So, how long have you had your soulmate?"

He's playing with the strings of his hoodie, another indicator of nervousness that Izuru has learned from spending time with him. Izuru is sitting next to him perpendicularly with his back against the wall that his bed is pressed against, his feet tucked under Makoto’s legs. Izuru has grown fond of these casual touches, and he looks forward to his pillow smelling like Makoto’s rosemary-and-cedarwood shampoo.

Izuru frowns, unsure of where the question is coming from, but also predicting where it is leading to. "Am I not your soulmate?"

"You are! But..." Makoto shrugs, and it looks interesting when he's horizontal—his hoodie scrunches up around his neck. "I mean, you could already see color, though. So I'm not yours, right?"

"Of course you are," Izuru answers immediately and with complete certainty. He does not know this because he sees color; he knows this because he knows Makoto, and there is no way Makoto is not his soulmate.

"How do you know?"

The question is one that Izuru hardly ever expected to arise, because he himself has never doubted his knowledge, but he realizes now that the topic might be one that Makoto needs to address.

The answer is obvious to Izuru: How does he know? Because Makoto has three anxious tics and Izuru knows all of them (scratching his cheek, tugging on his hoodie, rubbing the back of his neck; one for embarrassed-nervous, one for stress-anxious, and one for awkward-stressed); because Makoto cuts his own bangs when they get "too long" and his hair always smells like rosemary; because Makoto has a collection of enamel pins on a corkboard in his room, because he can never decide which ones to put on his jacket; because Makoto is somewhat ambidextrous but doesn't even know it, so he's not even showing off when he absently switches dominant hands between tasks; because Makoto can always find at least one four-leaf clover whenever they go on walks, and he always gives it to Izuru; because Makoto is a horrible singer, but he still sings along to the radio and laughs about his own flat pitch; because Makoto has two crooked teeth on the left side of his mouth, and his smile is all the more perfect for it.

Because Makoto is awkward but earnest, because Makoto is gentle and kind, because Makoto is terribly average but in a way that doesn't make Izuru restless. Because Izuru listens to Makoto's pitchy singing, and looks at his crooked teeth, and has twenty-one four-leaf clovers taking up space on his desk, and all of these things only make Izuru feel like he is surrounded by sunlight.

Izuru ponders for a moment on how to communicate these feelings.

"Hajime and I are twins," Izuru begins, "technically speaking. However, I am not... Natural."

Makoto is looking at him with wide, earnest eyes; Izuru is looking at his hands.

"Hajime and I were genetically formed in a lab, but I was subjected to a variety of biological experiments as an embryo and then as an infant by an extremely well-funded genetics laboratory that was researching sight and color perception. Most subjects were various adults at the three stages of the soulmate cycle—" (pre-soulmate grayscale, soulmate technicolor, the post-soulmate's death gradual retrograde back into grayscale) "—and my mother was an egg donor." Izuru pauses. "I suppose Hajime isn’t ‘natural’ either, because he was also a 'test tube baby,' as he refers to it, then."

He glances to Makoto for a sense of approval at his attempt at a light-hearted remark, and Makoto rewards him with a quiet laugh and a reassuring smile.

"So they created twins, genetically identical, in order to experiment on one and leave the other ‘natural,’ to gauge their experiment’s success." Izuru touches a spot on the back of his head. "I have scars here from the surgery on my occipital lobe, which ultimately granted me color vision at two years old."

"That doesn't seem fair," Makoto frowns. "It almost seems like they took away your soulmate."

Izuru cocks his head to the side, studying the green of Makoto's eyes. "But you're right here."

Makoto goes a violent pink; it starts with the tips of his ears and the back of his neck, then spreads pleasantly over his round cheekbones.

Before he can speak, Izuru continues, "Besides, my vision isn't the only brain surgery I have had since. I had a partial lobotomy a few years ago, although that was done nasally, so I don't have any scars from it. Many of my neural pathways are artificially formed, so I absorb information at a speed severely above average. Basically, once the head of the lab succeeded with my sight, they wanted to see how else they could enhance me, so my brain works at nearly peak human capacity."

"Hm," Makoto says.

He's thinking; Izuru waits, finding himself almost... Nervous by Makoto's response. But then Makoto smiles at him.

"Honestly, that all sounds awful, and quite frankly I feel like that level of human experimentation is probably illegal."

Technically, Izuru and Hajime's mother had signed off on it.

"But... You're still you, you know? After all those things... I was still meant to find you. And..." Makoto hesitates, then reaches for Izuru. Izuru lies down and curls himself around Makoto's chest eagerly. "And I like you just the way you are now."

"Your heart is beating very fast," Izuru observes. Makoto squeaks, so Izuru presses his face further into Makoto's chest and says, "You... Elevate my heart rate as well."

"Oh." He can hear Makoto's smile. "That's good."

"And... I like you just the way you are too," Izuru tells him, deciding that the phrase perfectly summarizes the list of things about Makoto that he had thought of earlier. It's just another thing to add to his list.

**Author's Note:**

> this might get a pt. 2 because i love these boys sm!! i mean, they didn't even kiss lskdjflksjdfksjdfkl FUCK


End file.
